Category Archives: random thoughts

Life is like skydiving. When you first jump out of the plane, everything is spinning and confusing but the guy strapped to your back steadies the both of you. His life is dependent on how well he can protect your own.

After a while, everything becomes clear. You steady yourself. You think you have it all figured out. Time freezes for a while and it feels like you’ll never land or grow old. You no longer need the guy strapped to your back. You wish you can enjoy this time independently, enjoying the full experience of this wonderful freedom.

But then the ground steadily approaches. You are once again happy that you have a man strapped to your back.

He yanks the ripcord to open the parachute.

This latter half of the jump can be serene and pretty, there’s no more rush or worry if the chute may or may not open. It’s opened and you can relax. This is where you’re able to truly take it all in, to catch your breath and count your blessings. Time is no longer frozen, you are no longer suspended in mid-air. Time runs differently in a way only someone with appreciation can understand.

You can sip your lemonade on the dock of the bay. Mixed with whiskey and rye. No rush, no more worry.

It seems that the age of 40 is the appropriate time to pull the chute. When you can literally see and feel the ground approaching more rapidly than before. 40 is the age for everyone to pull their chutes, but they either can’t or they won’t. For some it may mean giving up on that brief glimpse of exhilarating freedom they experienced years before. For others, it’s circumstance. Whether it be loss of a job or loss of the man strapped to their back.

These days, mostly everybody is still in free-fall. And the closer the ground approaches, they feel like time is running out. This is why older people are technologically disadvantaged – they don’t have time for such “nonsense”. There’s no time, no time for anything. Time is only for those still frozen high up in mid-fall, and not for those who must work even harder now that they’re not young anymore.

I’ve been unknowingly searching for the ripcord to my parachute since opening up my second business. Not to be confused with my third business, the one that I’m working on now, but my second. Surprisingly enough, I was still in the frozen free-fall when I opened up my first business. I was completely oblivious.

But now I see it. I can see the necessary chapters in life that we all must write. Steps that we must unavoidably take in order to prolong our longevity and deepen our experiences.

For me personally, freedom is by far the most precious facet of our time spent. It’s not time itself – time can be spent in agony, suffering, isolated and alone, but freedom? I’ll take a short life of freedom over a long life spent in torment.

And I am free. Well, almost. Pulling that ripcord for me personally, isn’t about finding a steady job, or settling down with a sturdy providing husband, no. It’s about finding my financial freedom – a freedom that doesn’t exchange time for money. A type of freedom that places me above the airplane that I unceremoniously ejected out of. It’s like being granted a second life. A life where I’m my own guy strapped to my back. Not only am I my own guy, but I’m my own parachute. I’m the ground approaching, I’m the sky and the wind in-between. I take on all roles, embodying everything.

Anyway, what the hell else am I going to do with myself? This life is magically long enough to manually change its trajectory at any age.

To each his own, right? And all I want is money. That’s all I want. Simple people like simple things.

Ayahuasca, Eckhart Tolle, pretty much ALL the guru’s that ever existed, all of them told me to let go of all desire, only then I’ll obtain everything. But ayahuasca also told me that we desire things because we fear our life will not be enough without them – we seek happiness to obliterate this fear, aka, void. There is an emptiness we must fill, and that is why we desire.

Another way of looking at this catch-22, is to focus our attention on the fear itself governing the desire. Forget about the desire for a moment, and look at the fear. What are you most afraid of? Never amounting to anything, not being respected, always someone’s lapdog, living in poverty…etc. Sure, those are all well and good fears but why should you be afraid of something when you have the power to change things?

You know what I think everyone’s greatest fear is? The fear of failure. Plain and simple. I’d go deeper into explaining why I think it’s the fear of failure, but that’s a bit off subject. Maybe I’ll circle back to it. It’s pretty important.

Weird, my right ear just started ringing. I was listening to the background noise of my family upstairs and all of a sudden everything went quiet and there was a ringing in my right ear. Hold on, gotta google that shit.

Okay, it stopped. Lasted about 7 seconds. It’s good luck that it was my right ear and not my left.

Okay, so anyway….where was I?

Oh right, the fear of failure. To me, the fear of failure trumps all other fears because if you were truly fearful of losing your job, you’ll take appropriate action to remedy it.

Quit and find a different job. “Screw it” is always my sloppy non-thought-out advice I offer to everyone.

But people don’t change their current situation most likely because they are pussy’s. They’re scared of falling all the way into the void. Not just a little bit into the void, but all the way in it. At least this way, by not changing anything, they have some semblance of control in the matter by not taking control of the matter.

Doesn’t make sense to you? Neither to me but this is what people do. I don’t get it either.

But what if you set yourself up to make failure an impossibility? Failing is IMPOSSIBLE. Desires don’t mean fiddly-squat anymore. You no longer “desire” anything and instead, you make choices.

Desire is like hope. They don’t mean shit. They are nothing and are worth nothing. But choice? There’s power in choice. And once you find your choice, that’s when to pop your chute. Hopefully in a place above the clouds. So we can be neighbors.

To circle back to our greatest fear, the fear of failure, that pretty much encompasses ALL fears, you know? It’s like the receptacle you dump all your other fears into. It can hold all of them.

I’m trying to think of a way to tie claustrophobia in with the fear of failure….hold on…wait for it….wait for it……Fear of failure to being let out? Bingo.

I learned in psych class that technically most people rank public speaking as their number 1 all-time fear. Why? Because the fear of PUBLIC failure. Not just quiet unspoken failure, but a boisterous in-your-face unmistakable FAIL that’s been witnessed by many.

Suckily enough, people’s opinions effect you whether you want them to or not. It’s harder to live down a fail the more people who coagulate towards a certain belief about you.

Anyway, I should get going to sleep. I’m beat. I’ll most likely write a shit-ton on Monday. I’ll catch you up on my life on Monday.

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Science, to me, is spiritual. It’s philosophical. It’s some crazy shit is what it is.

Think about it.

Let’s look at earth for what it really is. I mean really look at it. The lush tree’s that feel like fluffy broccoli from above, the lizard that guards his rock, the person that guards his wallet, the kangaroo with her kid in her sack.

The day us humanoids realize we’re nothing special, will be the same day we realize we’re All One.

We are All One. Just like the hippies say. Just like Buddha says. Just like anyone who’s ever done any hard trippy hallucinogen will tell you.

This is why most vegans are hippies and also why when you think of a hippie, you picture them saying things like “Far out”, “That’s some crazy shit, man.” And being completely agreeable with most things you tell them.

Hippies don’t give a fuck. They get it.

But scientists get it too. The real scientists get it.

There are fake hippies and fake scientists, but I know the difference. The real guys are in constant amazement. Hippies and scientists watch nature documentaries with the same level of astonishment. They both stare into a beehive and say “Whoa” like Keanu. They lose themselves by staring at a fern in wonderment and meditating that it’s entirely built out of geometry.

The real scientists and the real hippies know that we are in fact, just another species among trillions. And since most people can’t see this, we become a plague on the environment. We think we have rights and that we’re special. We’re entitled to everything.

The one thing scientists have that hippies don’t, are cohesive solutions. Hippies deprive themselves of water by conservation, they starve themselves because they don’t want to kill. But scientists think up ways to have their cake and eat it too. Scientists see that we all have a choice and there is always an answer, a way, a solution for both.

This is where hippies fall short. They resign themselves to blending in and leaving no carbon footprint. They don’t even want to have a cake, they don’t want to have anything. To them, wanting is part of the problem.

But it’s the scientists who got it right. Ayahuasca told me that science is a big part in our spiritual evolution. It’ll show us that anything can be obtainable and in doing so, our belief in ourselves will grow exponentially.

Belief in one’s own self acts as the curator for growth. It guards our journey.

There must be a balance between entitlement and respect. Don’t take without replacing kind of thing. And right now with our current mind-set, we believe money is the replacement for what we take/consume. But money is just paper! It literally consumes tree’s!

Money is a form of energy and energy is power. All day we exchange power back and forth with each other.

Time is also money, also power, so we buy peoples time with money and call it even.

But all of us have a time limit. That’s partly what makes it so precious.

I have an idea!!

If I ruled the world, I’d make a bio-dome type of place. A self-sustaining facility to house the greatest minds on earth. Everything they’ll ever need will be made to order and supplied to them in the self-sustaining facility/factory. They won’t get paid (because that’s too much strain on the taxpayers), but they get to spend all day dreaming up solutions to our problems and doing what they love.

People who love robotics will be in charge of janitorial duties. Eventually, given enough time, the janitors will build a robot specifically designed for each janitorial duty.

The bioengineers will be in charge of farming. Given enough time, they’ll also make their jobs easier by growing massive fruits and vegetables that will eventually end starvation.

Chemists will be in charge of water filtration, ending water-born illness in third world countries thereby lengthening life expectancy.

Doctors will still be doctors but they will work side by side with pharmacologists, biologists, chemists and whoever else might take an interest.

Lawyers will be the police, eliminating the middleman and talking sense into criminals (if there are any).

And these brilliant minds don’t have to stay with one profession, they can bounce around looking for answers elsewhere.

Physicists will work with programmers in developing a quantum computer. The quantum computer can then be hooked up to a patient to find their disease, or a DNA defect that might lead to a disease.

They’ll all have families, have children. Their children will be homeschooled, taught in the field of their parents profession until they get old enough to apprentice in a field of their choosing.

Ah, to dream…..

I wouldn’t be able to live in my own fantasy bio-dome community unless I actually liked giving massages. My only real chance of being let in would be if I agree to write in their newspaper and brew beer. Those are the only things I’d be good at. Other than my love of capitalism, it’s writing and beer that I do for free.

Writing in the paper would be perfect because I get to connect everything and everyone. I’d get to learn a little about everything.

Me and my stupid fantasies…..

Anyway, the whole reason why I started this post was to tell you that what if all species on earth have the same exact intelligence, but an intelligence for different things?

Take an ant for example….what if an ant can take a bite out of dirt and automatically know the origin of the universe? He’d never be able to communicate it to us lowly humans though.

What if ants already have their own bio-dome of brilliants minds? And it was built so long ago that now all they know are bio-domes? Underground tunnels and networks that connect all major branches of universal studies?

And then us idiot humans stroll by and pour liquid metal down their gullets to create “art”.

It’s the heating element that I don’t understand. I can crank this baby up full blast, I think it get’s to be around 150 degree’s. But when I place my hand on it, it only feels lukewarm to the touch. However, when I lay my entire body on it…..holy shit that’s freaking hot! I started to sweat my balls off and I don’t even have balls!

I felt the heat in my bones and in my blood. My entire body covered in immense heat. My pajama bottoms were getting damp and that never happens, not even when I work out.

I’ve been laying on this thing since I got home at 4:30 and now it’s 11:27.

Anyway, aside from this ridiculously expensive heat mat, I wanted to write about my new business again. I want to calculate the absolute lowest amount of money I have to make a day in order to break even.

Let’s say rent is $500, internet is what? $40? Tracfones are crazy cheap but let’s say $60 a month for two of them. And that’s it. Those are my expenses. $600 a month. Now, how many clients do I need a day to reach $600 a month…..

600 divided by 30 days is $20 a day. I need 3 45-minute birthday massages a day, or one 45-minute birthday massage and one 75-minute birthday massage a day, or one coupon client a day.

If I have one coupon client a day, that’s $38.75 a day X 30 days is $1162.50 minus $600 is $562.50.

When I run the numbers this way, things look a bit grim. Shit. It’s possible I won’t break even for at least 4 months, and instead, paying out my teeth for this new place. I already spent over $1000 on it and it’s still the very beginning phase.

The current business I have now, we get a TON of the same people booking every month. Today alone, we had 5 – would’ve been 6 but one cancelled. The one that cancelled has been with me since day one at my first stink-hole office.

If I can get my new business to have these same numbers, well, I’d be stinking rich is what.

But the therapists I’m hiring aren’t me. I hate to say it but I’m freaking special. I really REALLY hate to say it. And everybody would equally hate to hear me say it. As soon as I say it, my specialness is gone and now I’m the opposite of special, but more like hated. Hated in a special way. Envy is probably the worst kind of hate. It’s why wars are started! All war!

Envy is equal to lack of power and when acting on this lack of power, destruction falls in your wake. You may win and get to write the history books, but you’ll always be miserable because you’ll never be self-sufficient, but always dependent on someone or something.

Narcissists are the most envious people there are. Take take need need.

I’m rambling.

Go on, hate me for thinking that I’m special. I’d do it too. I hate when people say that. Mostly out of annoyance rather than envy. Only two or three times did I feel the envy, that’s how I know about this. I didn’t read about it, I experienced it. Luckily the disease never latched.

When people talk highly of themselves (or even highly of their kids), it can breed envy. Why anyone would wish to be envied is beyond my scope of understanding. Where’s the love in that?

Part of my charm is that I act like a kid. When I’m being myself, that’s how I act. But not an immature kid or an emotionally inept person – I act inexperienced, but I’m happy about my inexperience because it means I can only get better and no matter how good I get, I’ll always think of myself as inexperienced. I’ll always ask questions and respect others opinions and advice.

Come to think of it, my travel buddy, Hana, is the exact same way. We acted like children together exploring foreign lands but somehow expertly navigated the whole trip by the seat of our pants. It was fucking awesome.

My personality can best be described by this PEMF infrared heating mat. I don’t emit heat, I’m cool to the touch, but my heat penetrates deeper than all those other heating mats. It’s like I’m energy efficient or something. I only expend myself when needed. Perhaps this is the origin of my laziness? I can’t be awesome if I’m not lazy?

God, I hate writing about myself like this. I really do. I’m not like that, you know me best, right? It’s embarrassing is what it is.

But my point is…..I have about 40 clients still coming to my business, all of whom have known me since Massage by Melanie. My other therapists? Not even close. Even after all this time. Well, Mollie would be the closest. Then Adonis. But these clients don’t even get massages by me anymore, they come to my business simply because they like me.

Finding therapists that match my caliber are a rare find. Trust me, I’ve worked at Massage Envy, known quite a few therapists in my day and very few of them match my caliber of having both skill and likability.

I know what people want. That’s the trick. To take myself out of the equation. My therapist, Mollie, is an expert at this. She’s not the smartest person I ever met, but she’s a genius at likability. And now that you know my secret, there’s no need for the envy.

I don’t know what made me want to finish writing my last post at 4 in the morning today. It’s not like I had anything important to say.

I got home so late and so drunk last night (this morning) and for some reason I wanted to write knowing full well that I had 5 clients today starting at 11.

It was brutal. Have I said that already? Well it was.

It’s now 10:30PM and I can’t keep my eyes open. I just want to write about this time travel paradox right quick before I forget it. My brain is thinking up some weird shit tonight.

Ready to hear it here it goes….

Let’s say a man discovers time travel. I’ll call him number 1.

He goes back in time only to discover he’s getting buried alive by multiple bodies of himself also coming from the same future. He has to quickly find his younger self in that time period and tell him not to travel back in time. Something went terribly wrong.

The man (number 1) finds his younger self (number 2) and warns him. In a flash, the number 1 man disappears along with all his other selves. Leaving no traces behind.

The young man, number 2, goes about his day as if nothing happened and when number 2 invents time travel, history repeats and he travels back in time once again.

How does this happen?

When number 1 warned number 2 about the upcoming disaster, number 2 listened to the warning and never went back in time but since he never went back in time, number 1 was never able to warn number 2 about the disaster. Hence the infinite pile of number 1’s that keep traveling back in time. No one stopped him.

My question is….where do all these bodies go when they disappear? How is it possible for something to never happen if it happened?

I was watching a time travel documentary on YouTube just a moment ago and you see what happens? I should be sleeping right now!

It was a National Geographic special. They say that time travel is theoretically proven but we don’t have the technology to make it happen.

It’s interesting….The documentary also states that if we travel through time using the light-speed approach, we will be going into the future. But if we travel using the gravity approach, we travel backwards. The gravity approach is much more likely to happen according the the physicists.

What if time travel really does exist, and people been traveling back here for millennia? They cause epic disasters, correct them, forget them (refer to my story above), and we’re actually living in some vacuum of forgotten memories that never transpired but did?

And what if all the corrected mistakes we made that disappeared into nothingness, didn’t really disappear? All the number 1’s never truly disappeared but morphed into intangible thoughts, like they were added to the mass-consciousness of the universe? They went up and out into the 5th dimension?

All the horrible atrocities that mankind committed through-out history keep getting rectified and forgotten which in turn feeds into our mass consciousness. It poisons the well and from that poison, creates even bigger disasters. We obliterate the musket only to replace it with an AK-47.

Like this:

My mind is in shambles. I’m laying here in bed – so unbelievably fucking comfortable you have no idea. I’m warm, I’m fed, I’m loved, my life is grand and wonderful these days; I’ve even spoken with my lawyer today about the lawsuit and he says the whole case is stupid. Literally, he called it stupid.

Him – “It’s a straight forward simple case. You did nothing wrong and there was no way to prevent any of it from happening. If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. You’ll be fine.”

I’ve never had a lawyer before and I’m sure they all say things like “it’ll be just fine” or “don’t worry about it” to their clients but in my case, it rings true. There were literally no precautions or warning signs that I missed or could’ve foreshadowed. It was all a roll of the dice. Shit luck.

This was the first time he told me not to worry though. Thanks buddy, you could’ve told me that sooner. Before my mental breakdown and going through the 5 stages of grief hundreds of times over.

Anyhow, I’m truly loving my bed right now. Oh God I love it. I love Netflix. I love doing nothing and this time of night (11pm) is the time I can get away with doing nothing. I have a big plate of nothing all to myself.

So why’s my mind in shambles?

I had a long-ass summer. It ended with me having to house sit two dogs and a cat for 10 days. I just got home, when was it? Yesterday? I don’t know. But during those 10 days I was up at the ass crack of dawn letting those dogs out to pee. And at night, they had to sleep with me. They taken up the whole bed to where I was sleeping horizontal on the mattress. I’d wake up in the morning cranky as hell. They’d wake me up with a paw to the face.

Both dogs like to lick. They lick your face, your pants, your eyeballs, inside your mouth….etc. One day as I was exiting the shower, I walked over to the bed where my clothes lay spewed out everywhere and there were the dogs on the bed with my clothes. Both of them, at the same time, decided to lick my naked nipples. Each of my nipples had a dog attached to it.

I felt so grossed out, I felt violated. I just wanted to get dressed. That’s all that I wanted. But instead, there I was cold, wet, and had two dogs sucking at my teats.

I love home. I love it so freaking much. I want to stay here and hunker down for a while. I want to be alone in a bunker. But this can’t be, it’s not in the stars. I leave in 4 days to go someplace opposite of being home, comfortable, well fed and feeling stunningly fantastic. I’m going on a 35 day torture hike across Spain to lose weight. To lose weight! So I’m not one of the first to go during the zombie apocalypse. I’d be able to run goddammit.

Whoever says it’s fun is full of shit.

I think I need to see a therapist. I have a few friends who see therapists, so why shouldn’t I? The major issue’s I want to address is my laziness and my lack of caring what people think of me.

Now, most people would say that that’s wonderful – it’s great and liberating to not care what others think but they’re wrong. So way off the mark wrong.

Firstly, I don’t engage with people anymore. I don’t care enough to engage with them. I don’t care enough to, well, care about them. Why? Because I was a huge engager in the past and everyday the more I engaged, the more people expected it. At the end of the day, none of it mattered. No matter what I did, it was never permanently good enough and when it was good enough, the next day I had to be even better.

I went the other way. It’s not that I don’t care exactly, it’s more like I stopped trying. I don’t try with people anymore. My office manager pointed this out to me last night over a few pints. I pointed it out to myself about a month or so ago.

As far as the laziness goes…..”how the hell can you be lazy and walk across Spain then?” Is what you’re thinking. The thing with that is, laziness is a privilege. Laziness is not just about laying around, it’s a mind-set. It’s a mind-set of complete and utter ease. No worries. No responsibilities. Just freedom of all problems.

My type of laziness, the kind I’m talking about, it’s my personal drug of choice. And it’s addicting as hell. It’s better than anything else out there on the market. Not even beer can hold a candle to it.

Basically, I can’t be both fat and lazy. They cancel each other out. I won’t feel completely at ease again until I lose at least 25 pounds. Hence, the Camino and why I have to walk it (again).

If everyone experienced the same type of laziness that I experience, everyone in the world would be their own boss, have a clean conscience and stay healthy. Having a clean conscience also affects how well I can rest and relax. All vexes must be aired out and all foibles on my part must be atoned for.

Delicious laziness to extreem. Extreem power resting. Angelic homeostasis. Until I start trying with people and it all goes to shit when it’s never enough. Best to stay under the radar.

I’d tell these things to my shrink but what good will it do?

Does everyone experience the same type of lazy bliss? The same natural habitat of my resting mind? It’s my home base. The place I can always return to once all else is settled. To take my bra off and let the pups lick my nips….no. That’s disgusting.

But you know what I mean? A place where I can’t be hurt. Not by myself nor by any others.

I don’t think people grasp it the same way I do. They either don’t get it or decided to live a lie – a lie they reason with as being their only viable option.

I downloaded 18 audiobooks for my 500 mile journey. If the actual walk doesn’t change me, I’m sure one of those books will. My goal is to want to try again with people. But this time, I’ll make it enough for me and not care if it’s not enough for them. That’ll be my emotional goal this time around but my main focus is losing 25 pounds.

People constantly complain about Millennials not wanting to work but still expecting everything to be handed to them. I never suspected I was one of these people until last night.

I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to work. And I expect I will be taken care of, always.

But what happens if all Millennials are like me? Who’s going to make our buttons? Who’s going to sell me toilet paper?

The people who are stuck in debt and/or have to take care of a family. Those people can make buttons and sell toilet paper. I ain’t doing it. It’s not for me. I deserve better.

I’m a goddamned fucking Millennial.

I was born in 1980. The tail end of generation X and the start of the new era of Millennials. I got the best of both worlds. Kids of generation X consisted of punks dressing up like homeless rockers and the girls dressed like farmers. I dressed like a homeless farmer which I still do most days.

Gen X’s only culture is that of pop. We basically have no other culture. Our culture is fleeting and superficial. Based purely on enjoyment, on looking cool. Idolizing famous people simply because they are famous. We are a generation without substance. A generation that lacks any real hardships. If you consider our holidays as culture and tradition, we are gifted presents on those days – presents we didn’t earn, but expect we’ll receive none-the-less. We feel like we deserve them. Are entitled to them.

Our parents come from a different era. An era where if they didn’t work, they didn’t eat. If their family grew in size, the husband would build an addition to the house himself. Not expecting anyone else to do it for him. And he’d take pride in it.

I believe my generation lacks pride. Kids who grew up playing video games 24/7 and crying if they didn’t get a toy in their happy meal, how can they have pride? They grow up soft and doughy, needing glasses from having their faces shoved in front of a computer screen all day. They don’t care if they can’t lift a 2 by 4, someone else will do it for them. They’ll call their Grand-pappy over to have them fix their plumbing problems or electrical work.

In our parents (possibly grandparents) generation, women weren’t treated equally in the job-force which in turn made them devout mothers and care-takers. Our Dad’s brought home the bacon and our Mother’s served it to us on expensive plates ironically made in China.

If you broke a plate, you would get scolded. Not like today where parents tell their kids, “don’t worry hun, it’s just a plate.”

Respect and appreciation for material possessions has plummeted. That’s one key factor that give Millennials their attributes. Their appreciation lies with what they don’t have.

Back in the day there were no cheap Walmarts, no GPS, no cell phones. No franchises that cut labor costs. A pair of shoes cost a weeks wages. We are a generation of Walmart shoppers who never get lost and all our friends live in our pockets via smart phone. Have we ever known fear?

The best part of the day for a husband was dinner-time and the best part for the wife was afternoon soap-opera’s and putting the kids to bed. Simple pleasures and a simple yet less convenient life.

The revolution started over a hundred years ago. The womens suffrage movement which completely obliterated marriage as the sole means of survival for upcoming generations. We’re a generation standing on that movement. It’s our foundation. We are born in freedom that we didn’t earn ourselves and we don’t know what to do with. Divorce comes easier with each passing year.

We’re a generation expecting choice and freedom. If something goes against our expectations (such as work), we get confused and don’t understand what we did wrong to deserve such hardships. And since we’re not a prideful generation, we’re not above whining like spoiled doughy brats with ruddy cheeks and buggery noses.

And I’m one of them. I’m a stupid lazy Millennial. The only thing I have to contribute to the future of the world is my uterus which I refuse to do on accounts it will stifle my freedom and kick me back into the middle-ages of having to make buttons and sell toilet paper.

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I’m going to be 50 in 12 years. I just realized that today over lunch with a friend who will also turn 50 in 12 years.

The first 12 years of my life were monumental. They lasted a lifetime.

Me thinking – “Wow I’m only 12 and I know so much already! I’ll be a freaking genius by the time I’m 24!”

I remember thinking that when I was 12.

Little did I know that my brain would stop developing that year.

12 years ago I was 25. I’m still that same 25 year old. In fact, I’m still that same 12 year old.

Knowledge doesn’t accumulate. It doesn’t double every 7 years like with a savings bond. My question is why? The first 12 years (not counting my 13th year since that’s the year hormones kick in), I learned everything I needed to know for the rest of my life. I understood the basics of it.

All I’ve done since then is refine and enhance the knowledge I learned in my first 12 years of life. The only thing I added was inches to my height.

It doesn’t have anything to do with how much I retain over the years. It has more to do with values. In those first 12 years, I established my values.

This is all my opinion, not backed up by science or surveys. Read for entertainment purposes only.

I believe my entire personality, my true character is established solely on my values (maybe I learned this in psych class? I don’t know).

And if my values were instilled in me by the tender age of 12, all the subsequent years that followed has either hardened my resolve or weakened my soul. In other words, since my beliefs have already been established, they are either reinforced or broken down over the course of time since adolescence.

I believe (still, this is all conjecture), that we go through cycles of being broken down and built up again. Like a spiral, the golden ratio. When we start sucking our spirals back into ourselves like a strand of spaghetti, back to its origin – we break down. But when we exhale it all out, like we’re giving, not receiving, we are essentially growing and strengthening our character. Widening it enough to fit in more of the world. Until that is, we get scared to death and have to suck it all back in again.

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The older we get, the harder it is to break us. Like a bone that’s already been broken, we’re harder to break the second time. And because of this, we become less pliable, more set in our ways, afraid to venture outside protocol. We lose our fascination and wonder because we’re too tired to break down our belief system yet again only to have to rebuild it once more.

Unsubstantiated pride is the glue that holds belief structures together. But it doesn’t make us stronger, it makes us brittle. Stubbornness equals brittleness unless the pride that binds has merit.

If my beliefs, my value’s, my personality and character were all imbued in me by the time I was 12, that also means that what I dream of most in life has also been determined. My fascinations and curiosities were apart of me from the start. Before I threw them overboard to the wretched urchins of the sea.

It’s our fascinations and curiosities that contain our unique gifts. And because of their fragility, they are the first to go when life gets messy. “Jettison all that is unnecessary for fear it will sink us.”

The generations that came before us, most of the people who lived in those times were tied to a repressed culture. A culture in which they had to work in order to survive, their well deserving pride provided them with existential purpose. They worked hard to figure out puzzling problems, knew how to read maps and stars. They couldn’t refer to a YouTube channel on how to make the perfect turtle soup, they had to learn by trial and error.

They had to chop off the chickens head themselves, sort of speak (or literally). A type of appreciation Millennials know nothing about.

These days, every answer we seek is a mouse click away. Every inch of the world has already been mapped. All the awesome idea’s ever fathomed can be admired on Pinterest while you tilt your head in envy and murmur, “I wish I thought of that.”

We might be the very first generation who got an applause for using the potty. We get applauded for accomplishing small everyday necessities while not having to use our heads for life’s most intricate problems – we have Google and psychiatrists for that. All the legal drugs at our fingertips accompanied by copious amounts of information that we didn’t work out ourselves.

There’s an answer for everything and it’s either in the form of a pill, or a YouTube video.

Millennials didn’t earn their stubbornness the good old fashioned way by trial and error. They learn it from pop culture, they are swayed by the popular vote. They go with whatever thought process is in style at the time. They depend on others to tell them how to think or how to feel because they never had to work out problems on their own. They value the information inside a computer more than they value their own judgment. And this was infused in them before they turned 12. The most crucial years for discovering individuality and purpose.

They’ll become brittle, weak adults with no heart in the marrow of their bones. No merit infusing their belief system.

We’re sucking in that strand of spaghetti more than we’re expanding its reach. We’re more likely to kill ourselves over feeling helpless and hopeless rather than take pride in what we already have or do. How can we have pride if every 6-year old can earn a black belt simply by showing up for class and paying his dues on time?

Unsubstantiated pride is the blunder of todays youth. And I’m sitting on my throne as the Mother Queen of all Millennials.

I was born lazy. It taken me 2 long weeks passed my due date just to leave the womb. And although I was 14 at the time the internet went global, it became the love of my life. Almost as if I knew it was coming and I merely waited all the preceding years until its arrival.

I don’t think, I click.

I don’t create, I copy.

I don’t cut off the proverbial chickens head myself, my mom buys Purdue at the grocery store. And the chickens of the future won’t even have heads.

You don’t have to expend your energy by judging or hating me for any of this, I already hate and judge myself.

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Everyone is born with a gift. Everyone’s life embodies Joseph Campbell’s philosophical story map. The same map that every story ever told has used.

This image is where I got the idea for the spiral I mentioned earlier. Constant change and constant adaptions that spiral out and build off the old. In my depiction of it, you’ll never arrive back where you started, it’s never a full circle. Eventually the Hero gets tired and decides to plop down once and for all. He’s done, he’s had it. Enough bullshit.

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I drank coffee today. You see what happens when I drink coffee? Almost 2000 words, that’s what happens. The majority of it gibberish.

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I was at the bar the other day. Not sure which bar on which day, but the devil is in the details so I try to forget them.

Anyway, I was at the bar and a grown man playing Pokemon on his iPhone looked up at me as I strode by him. He took one glance before resuming his quest of capturing monsters.

I, like him, have trouble figuring out what to say to people if I accidentally make eye contact.

With my breath held, his sweaty eyes beaming into mine, the awkwardness, the itchiness, it was soon over when he turned back to his game.

I exhaled. Whew. Thank you for turning away.

My day is littered with these little moments. Or episodes I should say. They vary in degree’s of severity.

I find my friends sitting at a table and I join them. I join them by sitting down and politely sipping my beer while listening to them talk and balk and…..make eye contact. The more eye contact is made, the politeness of my sips become more and more aggressive. Beer dribbles down my chin and onto my shirt. I excuse myself to the restroom to tidy up but I’m not actually tidying up. I’m making eye contact with myself in the mirror.

Eye contact with myself is my specialty. I can do it for long stretches at a time before my face starts to look distorted in my peripherals.

“It’s just eye contact Melanie. The windows to the soul, the depths and breadths of man, truth incarnate, intimacy. A commitment to either do or don’t.”

After my secret pep talk, I rejoin the others in our shared quest to see who is the funniest and wittiest in the bunch and crown them king or queen for the night by bequeathing them with unrelenting eye contact.

Then my alarm went off about a minute after I heard ghost Dad calling me. I slammed on the snooze.

My brother’s in Rhode Island with my dog and I’m all alone in the house until Tuesday. I’m already creeped out. It sounded so real! An exact echo of this morning when my Pop first woke me.

I’ve had auditory hallucinations before but never like this. The crap I hear is usually heavy machinery, 20 TV’s turned on and blaring, one time when I was a kid I heard a news bulletin but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

I only hear stuff when I’m super stressed, I drank too much, and/or had little sleep. It’s annoying when it happens. It is NOT a spiritual awakening, it’s science that we haven’t figured out yet.

But anyways, I made a pledge to myself that I’m going to start the p90X workout tomorrow. 90 days of pain. I don’t want to do it because it cuts into my laying around time, but I have no choice. And plus I left behind my only pair of sneakers in Italy – I need to wear sneakers or my ankles get sore (learned from last time I did P90X). So now I need to buy a pair of new freaking sneakers.

I’ve been hiking up my big little mountain most days. I push myself to do it and it has gotten way easier, but I still feel like a fat slug. I still don’t feel my best, my confidence is low. My pants aren’t getting any looser.

It’s taking way too long is what I’m getting at.

I’m highly determined when it comes to certain things but I’m equally as lazy. How can I be both?

I’m determined when it comes to things infringing upon my laziness. I can’t enjoy being lazy if I’m fat and progressively getting fatter – the enjoyment plunges and morphs itself into self-hate. I swear to god, I know I sound dramatic but it’s true. My favorite activity (laying around) becomes tainted, no longer care-free enjoyment if I can’t run to save my life. Eventually I’ll need one of those electric chair thingy’s to do my Walmart shopping in and clearly that’s unacceptable.

Why do I enjoy being lazy? Because that’s the place where everything settles at the bottom. The waters become still. I can finally think and clear my head, to see straight down into the muck of the person I am. No other activity welcomes me as much as mucking around the still waters. It demands so little of me (none of me if you want to get zen with it).

My laziness started around mid-May and now it’s June 25th. The chronic worry I faced during the initial onset of my retirement is subsiding and being replaced with insomnia.

I’m a night owl by nature. Night is when I come alive. And since I don’t have to wake up early anymore, the combination of being awake at night and sleeping in is seriously messing with my circadian rhythm. I had insomnia 4 days in a row last week and I haven’t suffered like that in years prior.

So tomorrow I’m going to FootPrints to buy sneakers, then heading back home to start day one of the P90X. It should quell my insomnia to some degree. Seriously, P90X is no joke. It’s an hour of pure ass-kicking.

These past 4 years of working 70 hours a week has taken its toll just as I knew it would. Yet another reason why I hate giving massage – it makes me fat.

But what blows my mind is – I foreseen all this happening. Almost like I planned it. I knew my body would be a wreck at the end but I also knew as soon as my time freed up, I would do something about it. I’m not just all talk. I’ve never been all talk. I planned for this and I’m actually following through.

As far as my business goes…..

Have you ever looked back on a certain time in your life when everything seemed easy and fun? Like an old job you out-grew, but loved the time you spent working there?

I’m horribly sentimental to a fault and I kept wondering over and over again ever since opening my business; “if I look back on this time in my life, would they be fond memories? Easy and fun, filled with loving people?”

The answer I always found myself with is No. No this is not a fun time and no I would not look back on it fondly.

That is until now. I’m living in that time right now. The time when everything is perfect. I can look back on this present moment and say, “Best time ever.”

I’ve been waiting for this moment since opening. And if you completely disregard the pending lawsuit, things will only get better from here on out.

I think things are good now but you just wait…it’ll get even better. You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.

My receptionist has a lot to do with it. She ties everything together. She’s even throwing us an employee party at her house which is ultimate in strengthening the bonds we share. The stronger the bonds, the more powerful the business.

I feel like I’m reliving my 20’s. The ease and flow of life when you’re young, it’s all coming back. Complete with care-free’s, no responsibilities, and following the fun.

When I look back on last summer, the only thing I remember about it is my spontaneous 5 days off. I had 5 days off in a row, it wasn’t planned. It just happened. The rest of the time was spent on stress and one disaster following another.

So far this has been the best summer of my life. Well, technically 1986 was my favorite summer since I thought it lasted an entire year (I was 6). I graduated kindergarten and waited for first grade to start but it never came. I remember asking someone if I had to wait a year until I can go to the first grade and they said, “it’s not a whole year, just the summer.”

But yeah….this is the best year of my life. I can’t get over it. And it’ll only get better! As long as I keep the weight off and stay healthy, age won’t be a bother. I have nothing but the best years still ahead of me. And it all began last month. It’s only been a month of this!

And according to my poor math skills, I’ll have an extra $2000 in the bank starting next month.

Don’t get me wrong, life still sucks. I can never stop the suck completely, it’ll always be there. All I’m trying to do is make the best out of the suck. Despite the suck, I will enjoy what there is. I laugh in the face of the suck.

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I sat outside on our back porch today – just for a few minutes. I went out there to throw a recyclable away and as soon as I slid open the sliding glass door, I was hit in the face with a beautiful day. Literally, I felt it hit my face.

Me – “Wow, it’s so nice out.”

Me thinking – “We are floating in pitch-black darkness surrounded by nothingness. No air to breathe, no plant or animals, not even gravity. Nothing. Just coldness and the sporadic clump of debris that formed into an orb due to gravity. We are on such an orb. One orb of debris out of infinity.

I HAD to sit down to think about this. To look at the tree’s, the sky, feel the breeze, the colors and brightness, hear the birds chirping. How are we even here?

I’m part of the earth, it made me. I’m a natural part of it. But why me exactly? Why Me specifically? My thoughts don’t feel natural, they don’t feel born from the earth.

Language, which I feel is the deciding factor between beast and man, allows these unnatural thoughts to occur. Language creates a barrier between us and the universe. We are not it and it is not us. Language is nothing more than an evolved form of basic survival. It came strictly from ego, our fear of death. It’s both linear and restrictive and forms us into everything we are.

The sad truth is that there is no me. I’m nothing but just another animal born from science. No better or different from any other animal that lived. Language is the biggest obstacle that makes us think otherwise. Like we’re special, we’re separate. It’s the biggest lie ever told.

Once you grasp this, I mean REALLY grasp it, it shatters your world. You will suffer ego death (which feels like dying for real) and reemerge as the buddhist monk who ordered his hot dog “One with everything.”

It’s like you have to study really hard, learn all that you can and when you’re ready – forget it all. Wipe the slate clean because it’s all false, it’s limited thinking, it’s not as real as now.

But now you have a base-line to shoot from. If not for all you learned, you wouldn’t have a place to plant your feet. Language is a place holder. Until you swap it out for something better, what existed before you will continue to exist unchanged.

I’m clearly transfixing dammit. I hate when I do that.

Shit I hope I sleep tonight. I’m hungry.

Tomorrow is a big day filled with new sneakers and kicking my own ass.

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It’s June now. Good old summer is here. And I’m laying in bed at 8PM on a Saturday.

Okay okay, I know I’m being lazy, but I don’t do this all the time. I’ve been really social lately, more so than I imagined I’d be. I’m actually proud of myself for it. And I’ve been staying true to exercise. I’ve been hiking and rollerblading just like I promised I’d do.

I’m keeping up on myself. Making sure I don’t slouch my life away. It’s hard not to be a slouch when I don’t have to work anymore. I have to make a conscious effort just to get up and at least go for a walk. “It’s just a walk Melanie. You can do that.”

And then after my walk, I somehow have a surplus of motivation to get in touch with people I haven’t seen in a while. Everybody I ditched from when I had to work 70 hours a week. It always happens after I take a walk. A walk that I have to make a conscious effort to take.

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I’ve been redefining my definition of love. I always thought love meant that you cared about someone. That you look out for them and keep their best interests at heart. But this definition depresses me because it’s the “movie” kind of love. It’s not real. Assuming a person cares about you is the worst assumption you can make. It sets you up for the worst kind of heart break imaginable.

In the end, all people care about is what they can gain from you. What you offer them. And if they like what you’re selling, they’ll love you for it. Heck, they might even become addicted to it. They may become in need of it and when they reach that phase of need, most people consider that love.

No matter what angle I look at it from, this is it. The harsh reality.

I’m honing in on the unreciprocated kind of love. The one-sided deal. I love people, but in my own way. The kind of love I’m talking about can handle rejection.

I’ve narrowed down what love is in one sentence; Being happy that a person is alive (or has lived).

You don’t want or need anything from them, but just the mere fact that they are alive, brings you joy. And therefore love. It’s not even unrequited love because you don’t want them to love you back. Sometimes even preferring that they don’t in some instances.

“Just do your thang man, I love ya bro.”

It’s the most basic kind of love. It’s the kind of love people have for movie stars they’ll never meet, or fallen hero’s that died for a cause – you love them for merely existing. “Thank you for your service” kind of love.

A new baby has entered the world. They contribute nothing, drain you of money and sleep, but you still manage to love them merely for existing.

It’s a primal, earthly love that is lost to us in youth. When we stop buying Teen Beat magazine and pining over Ralph Macchio.

Granted, you should never idolize anyone, I’m not saying that. But you can appreciate their existence from afar.

After puberty, most kids stop appreciating from afar when they learn other needs can be met in closer vicinity. Needs such as sex, or an egoic need that makes them feel good about themselves. It has nothing to do with appreciation and it’s all about what they can get.

It’s like they stopped dreaming and started settling. They settled for immediate gratification obtained through the use of another person. And if that person stops procuring what they need, they get dumped.

I’m trying my hand at the unattached kind of love. It’s like hippie love, but I’d rather think of it as the most basic primal love there is. A love that we lost interest in since it’s not obtainable. It can’t be controlled.

You love a person for merely existing, so let them exist. Don’t interfere. Add to their life, not destroy it by means of control or jealousy. Because you’re afraid of losing them. Afraid of losing someone that defines your own existence.

If you love someone, let them exist. Appreciate them.

If I can find someone who’s able to love this way, I’ll marry them and never let him out of my site. You can’t trust those damn hippies with their enigmatic gravitational energy.

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The doctor thinks my Dad might have prostate cancer.

My brother – “Don’t google it.”

He know’s how much I like to Google things. But I took his advice and have not done so.

My Pop went in for a routine blood check and found out he has a large number of a certain type of blood cell associated with prostate cancer. The doctor wants to wait a month to see if they rise again.

I’ve always been a proponent of unattached love. When I’m at my strongest, I’m invincible to all heartache. I don’t let anything beat me down.

But that’s never been the case with my parents. I’m attached to them big time. I need them. I’ll never be able to let go. So this whole prostate thing, it can’t happen.

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I woke up and went to work today to massage one client scheduled at 12 noon. Then I went to hike up my big little mountain.

It kicks my ass with each attempt. I’ve been up and down that thing at least 4 times now and it’s not getting any easier. Today was harder than the last time.

But I shall keep at it. It’s either hike or rollerblade. No other forms of exercise excite me. At least, none that are free. My goal is to hike the scarecrow out of me. So I can connect my mind to my flabby body. And I’m preparing myself for another trek. When and where this trek will be, I don’t know yet. I actually looked into trekking the entire Wall of China (After watching the movie The Wall). But I’d die for sure so I scrapped that idea.

Today is May 17th and I’ve been greatly enjoying my free time away from massage. YouTube especially has sucked me into its clutches. I learned so much already!

The purpose for today’s entry is to write about what I’ve learned so I don’t forget it.

Years ago I invested in a cleanse. I swallowed pills that killed unwanted parasites, drank a thick ghastly shake, and finished off my treatment with a special tea brewed twice a day. Long story short, this concoction gave me Dermatographic urticaria, aka the skin writing disease. I developed the itch during my purported cleanse.

I’ve learned in my time away from work, that that cleanse actually did rid me of my parasites. But unfortunately for me, they were good parasites.

This is nuts but it makes perfect sense! The way they describe it I mean, it’s astounding. Each person has his or her own eco-system. No two people have the same set of parasites in their body. Not only do they not have the same set, but there are so many parasites out there, we harbor trillions of them per person, and it’s more likely that you will have not one parasite in common with your neighbors parasites. You carry with you a species of parasites unique to your body that no other person has.

You can find your particular little eco-system of bugs in your very own belly button. Sick people however, don’t harbor many bugs in their navel. The less you have stored there, the sicker you are.

Oh and get this! People who have allergies, have them because their ancestral body – their coded DNA, had it’s mind set on fighting off parasites from day one but now that people are hand sanitizing crazies, our body fights itself instead. Not necessarily fights itself, but overreacts to the smallest triggers. It overreacts because they are just like the bored cops in my hometown, they got nothing better to do.

And that’s what originated my itch. My good parasites that were unique to me, has taken flight and now my histamines pounce on any pressure given to my skin because they’re not battling it out with my forgotten brethren who lost the battle.

I’ve been trying to get that parasite back. I’m starting to eat unwashed fruits and vegetables, eating sushi like crazy, yesterday I ate raw angus beef that was supposed to cook itself in my soup, but it didn’t quite make it.

There’s even a certain mix of parasites that cause obesity, or a slow metabolism.

And listen to this! This is even crazier! There’s a parasite called toxoplasma and half of us already carry it. You want to know what it does? First I’ll tell you what it does to mice. Over the course of thousands of years, mice learned how to run and hide at first site of a predator. Particularly cats. Toxoplasma basically turns all those years of evolutionary instincts into irreverent fodder. Mice now leap out at cats. Not attacking the cat, but subserviently waiting to be eaten by it.

Why cats? Because toxoplasma can only reproduce in cat guts!

And they did a study on how it effects humans and it is said that those with toxoplasma take more risks than those who are not infected. I mean come on now, this shit is wack, Amirite?

It’s makes you wonder if we truly are in charge of our thoughts and actions. I say we’re not in control, I’ve been saying it forever, ayahuasca even mentioned we’re not in control.

I want to make a separate post describing all the psychological reasons as to why we’re not in control, but it’s going to be a fat hog of a post. I need to invest real time when I tackle that beast.

Anyway, it’s 8:40PM and I need to wind myself down for the night. I need an early cut-off time with my blog otherwise I have trouble sleeping.

Tomorrow I’m going rollerblading. Then maybe Cheshire Coffee with my blog, we’ll see. Oh god I love not working. OMFG I lurve it. I need to enjoy it while it lasts.

I also want to write about water memory. It’s insane! Insane I tell you! Insane in the membrane of water.

All of this stuff I’m learning can be tied neatly together in the biggest, baddest, most epic sci-fi novel ever created. Chock full of all this shit. Both fiction and fantasy with the reader not knowing the difference. Just like Orsen Wells, that cheeky bastard.